


The Beast in the Darkness

by MintIceTea



Series: The Beast in The Darkness [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), Ravenous (1999)
Genre: Cannibalism, F/M, this is supposed to be creepy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 06:22:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8434972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MintIceTea/pseuds/MintIceTea
Summary: Belle didn’t like the thing trapped in the dungeons - it was mad, uncontrollable, clever, and worst of all, it was hungry.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Ivelle for Halloween! <3
> 
> Un-beta'd.

            The capital city of the Marchlands sits beside the sea. Perched on a cliff where the inhabitants could indeed watch the fog march across the land below. The caves beneath the palace served both as a path down to the sea, and prisons for their enemies. Belle rarely ventures down into the dark and dank caves. Not even for seaside visits, not anymore. The dungeons were made to be carefully neglected. Creating a feeling of hopeless abandon that makes her skin crawl. Especially now that they are dedicated to the containment of one sole inhabitant.

            The people of the capital, those who knew, called the _thing_ beneath the castle a blessing. Avonlea and the kingdom beyond were safe (a lie) now, because the beast no longer haunted the woods. It is held captive beneath floors of stone and bars of spelled iron as the stories of its defeat spread. The captain of the guard, a boastful man named Gaston, continues to tell constantly embellished tales of tracking the beast through the forest. (No, Belle knows the truth. She heard it tumble from the drunken lips of the guards beneath him.) No matter the version of the story, the fact remains that the creature is beneath the castle, and it isn’t a blessing.

            If anything, it is a curse.

            The beast paces its cell, terrifying the guards at all hours. On quiet nights Belle can hear the howls from her rooms. The cries were animal, still human enough to freeze the blood in her veins. Worse than the screams though. What really makes her heart stop is the laughter. If she walks the beach under the moonlight she’s followed by cackling, mad laughter coming from the openings of the caves.

            (She no longer ventures near the caves at all.)

            Her father and their people rejoice in the reputation the Beast brings them. Belle worries. The madness, the crazed mad laughter, seemed a farce in comparison to the stories that follow the monster. (Meticulous deals. Detailed and clever plans that take down those who challenge it.) It frightens her. Not even the dubious protection that the dagger offers. According to rumors, it is the only thing that can control the monster. Belle doesn’t trust it. It reminds her of using a stick against a wolf. The Beast is a dangerous thing. Feral, mad, and ravenous.

            Belle continues to read everything she can about the creature. The writings are scarce, but all of them tell that the Beast holds unmeasurable power. Fueled by the blood of man. The accounts are hardly factual information, and she is not satisfied by it. Time for research falls to the side though as Queen Regina’s troops creep ever closer to their borders. Her vengeful hunt of her stepdaughter has left many towns and villages decimated in her wake, and Belle fears their seaside kingdom may be next.

            Her father and Gaston are too preoccupied with their war games to listen to her worries. Their thoughts only revolve around the creature they hold captive. Now, they brag proudly, with the Beast under their control they finally have magic to defend themselves with.

            The Beast’s powers though remain a mystery. Belle is furious about that, they ignore the creature, but still plan to use it as a weapon. She shakes at the thought of it. If the dagger doesn’t control it they will have two enemies out for blood. Belle keeps her silence in order to stay in the council, but when they speak of the day of battle she puts her foot down. All of her arguments are overruled by her father, Gaston, and all the men of her father’s council. They placate her. _Don’t worry, my lady._ Their patronizing tones make her cringe. _We have the dagger. We can end this war before it even begins. We can control it._

            Just liked they control her. Locking her out of the meetings from then on. Guards are posted by the doors to keep her from pressing her ear to the wood and listening.

            Not even her father will listen to her voice while the advisors have his ear. So Belle vents her frustrations in other ways. Too angry to read, but plotting nonetheless. She spends days struggling to think of a way to ensure the safety of their kingdom if her father continues with the plan. But nothing comes to light. Nearly a week continues in this manner until Belle’s impulsive streak leads her feet to the entrance of the dungeons. 

            She hesitates in front of the door, almost waiting to be caught by the guards that _should_ be there. It takes a couple of deep breaths before she is able to open the heavy barred door. A blast of cold, damp air hits her face, making her shudder. Many of the torches provided for dim light had burnt out, the few remaining flickered with the very last of their fuel. Belle thinks about turning back, a deep unsettling feeling in her belly tugging her towards the safety and sunlight above. Before she can convince herself one way or another a voice calls out.

            “H-hello?” A man’s voice, raspy from disuse. Wavering through the darkness. “Is someone there? Please…”

            Belle didn’t think there was anyone else down here besides the monster. What other secrets has her father been keeping from her? She’s about to round the corner and be in view of the cells when she hears the shout of the guard returning to his post. She scurries back up towards safety. Mad unnerving laughter at her heels. (She has nightmares when she sleeps. Of dangerous eyes. Of blood. Of a broken man begging for her help and they are both swallowed whole by the laughing darkness.)

\---

                A few days later she finds herself locked in her room. Belle knows with a cold terror clawing at her throat that today was the day. Her father would use the dagger against Queen Regina’s troops. The hours creep by, and she sees nothing from her window. She feels as if she’s left in suspension, forgotten. She starts to wonder if this is what the poor man feels like, locked in the dungeons far below. ( _Abandoned, frightened_.) Her frustration leads her to unsuccessful attempts picking the lock on her door.

                And then the screaming starts. It echoes, even with her hands pressed against her ears. The screams were deafening, but even worse was the laughter. The beast was _laughing_ as it turned back on its’ captures. She beats her fists against her locked door, wanting to escape, to get out and help. Though she knows it is useless.

                She hears Gaston shouting, and the abrupt way it cuts off. If Gaston, with his years of training and brutal style, can’t stop the beast how can she? She paces from the locked door to the closed window of her chamber, hoping with every pass that it’ll just stop.

                Suddenly the door is unlocked and creaks open. Belle tenses, but it is only her father standing in front of her. A deep gash leaves blood dripping across his face. He holds his arm at an odd angle. The horrible, _horrible_ , dagger gripped in his hand.

                “Papa! Oh, Papa!  What’s going on?”

                “I’m sorry, Belle, but… _it_ is asking for you.” There are tears in his eyes.

                Belle feels out of place. As if she is suddenly in a different palace then the one she grew up in. ( _The window seat where her mother used to read to her cannot be the same one that now holds the remains of the cook. It can’t be, it just can’t_.) She feels as if she is a ghost, her spotless dress an abnormality amongst the blood that coated the floor. The train of her gown slowly turns red as she follows her limping father into the dining hall.

                Bodies aren’t strewn about as she expects, but are instead stacked against the main doors. As if a barricade. She turns her head away, in avoiding looking at the bodies she finds herself facing _him_.

                “Ah, there she is. As lovely as promised.”

                Her first clear sight of the monster is it seated at her father’s place at the head of the table. Gnawing on what had once been the right arm of Gaston. She recognizes the tattoo. She barely comprehends her father’s words, speaking over her shoulder to the beast, desperate and pleading. His broken wrist held gingerly to his chest.

                “I brought her to you, now please, please, stop.” Her father’s voice sounds more broken then Belle has ever heard it.

                “Ah, ah.” The Beast scolds, standing from his meal.  He ignores her father, coming instead to stand in front of Belle. His clothes are ragged and torn. Nearly all solid red from the slaughter. He looks her up and down as a smile begins to stretch his lips.

                Belle hid her trembling hands in the folds of her skirt. Raising her head high and hoping that bravery would soon follow her act. “What do you want with me?”

                “What I want, my dear, is to offer you a deal,” he purrs, blood dripping from his grin and gloves. He holds his hand towards her, like a suitor requesting a dance. “You for the rest of your kingdom.”

                “My father, he will be safe as well?” She asks, hearing her father choke back a sob at the request.

                The Beast’s eyes slide over to the lord, unimpressed, before moving back to hers. “Once he returns my dagger, then yes.”

                Belle turns to her father. “Papa, please.” She’s not sure what she’s asking for. But he hands the dagger back to the monster, blade first, without quite meeting her eyes. The Beast tucks the black into his belt, the clean silver a shock against the dirt and gore.

                “Well, my lady?” She turns back to him, to his waiting hand. “Do we have a deal? Come with me.”

                She meets his cold eyes, dark and knowing. It angers her, that he’s so calm while her life is falling apart. That gives her enough courage to place her hand into his, not even wincing as the bloodied leather squelches at her touch. “Yes. I will go with you.”

                He smiles and magic swirls around the both of them, sending them both into darkness.


End file.
